She wanted to fight-to kick, lashing out with small feet, flailing with her fists. Being subdued so easily, while they laughed at her? Humiliating. Humbling. Scared as fuck-all, she trembled as she felt herself carried out of the vehicle, slung over someone’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She felt the chill of the night air despite the blanket that wrapped her snugly. The bite of the rope around her wrists burned with every twist to loosen them, the hemp raw and rough.

There was a feeling of falling, that weightless surge as she was tipped away from the shoulder buried in her gut. She braced herself, but still felt that jarring contact as her body hit. There was a squeak, a groan, from the mattress below her. Her brain took a moment to process where they had dumped her. The smell of the place made her fear escalate; dank, musty, and of old body fluids, the tang of old urine foremost.

Her wrists ached as she tried to untangle herself from her wrappings. Her head popped free. There they stood, the pair of them, watching her with leering grins. She shook her head ‘no’, but their grins remained. She could see she was in a cellar or someplace similar. The room had just this mattress, a battered desk with a bag on it, and a single bulb hanging lamp. The faint swing of the bulb threw shadows everywhere, hiding the door from her quick scan.

“Look,” she began, but the blonde man moved forward, slapping her sharply across her face.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Her cheek burned, eyes welled with tears. She tugged her arms free, wrists still cobbled tightly together, and wiped the wetness from her throbbing cheek. She’d be damned if she’d cry for them. The dark man moved forward, and began tugging away the blanket, then jerked open her blouse.

“No….” she whimpered, but was silenced again by another slap, harder than the first. His hand was huge, the palm a lighter shade than the rest of him. His hands took her wrists, and fastened them over her head to the rusty headboard. There was a big hook there, which told her they’d done this before.

She kicked, but it only took minutes for them to strip her jeans off, shred her panties, and tie her legs. Knees bent, calves pressed against thighs, heels against her buttocks, long lengths of rope wrapped round and round. Folding the remaining rope in half, the fold was forced between the cording around her legs, up and over and through, pulled tight and secured to the side of the bed frame. Her left leg was contained the same way, so she lay, her legs looking like chicken wings, and sprawled open like an overcooked Thanksgiving turkey.

The two walked over the paper bag and began extracting items. The dark man returned, the glint of silver in his hand.

“To remember us by,” he said as he climbed upon the bed, straddling her belly. Those large hands slapped at her tits, pinching and rolling her nipples as she moaned and tossed her head.

“Room’s soundproof,” the blonde spoke. “Scream all you want.”

The dark man pinched her left nipple, released it to watch it swell. She knew something was going to happen, judging by the intent expression on his face. He grabbed her breast and stabbed the nipple. It took a second for the shock to hit, for her back to rise and try to buck him off. He fastened the safety-pin, flicking it up and down as she cried out.

“Pretty,” said the blonde man, peering down at her. He too flicked the pin. The large dark hand encircled her other breast, fingers teasing her nipple to rise. This time she was ready for the sting, the quick stab of pain. She yelled anyway.

“Oh shut the fuck up. It doesn’t hurt that much,” the dark man said, a sneer in his voice.

“How about you untie me and let me stab your nipples then?”

Honestly, she didn’t know when to shut up. She braced for the blow, but it was laughter that caused her eyes to flash open.

“She’s got a point, B-man.”

“Fuck off,” came the laughing reply.

He pressed her tits together. The blonde dropped a loop of cording over them, drawing the noose tight. It caught under the pins in her nipples, holding them close together.

“Gently, you don’t wanna rip them out of there…I got into the meat but still…”

Her tits were held together by the coil of rope around her nipples.

“If you’re a good girl, we’ll loosen that up a bit. But for now, deal.”

The throbbing ache of the piercing was made all the more intense by the noose holding her tits tightly together. The safety-pins piercing her nipples wouldn’t allow the rope to slip off. Relaxing his hold on her tits, the dark man moved off of her to stand by the bed. He stood a minute, admiring his handiwork. She moaned as her tits, now held together only by the thin cording noose around her nipples sloped away toward her sides.

“Cruel, but exquisite,” remarked the blonde man, as he too paused to look at his friends efforts. Leaning, he plugged a white cord into the socket near the end of the bed, then moved up to sit between her splayed open thighs. A flick of his thumb turned on the huge vibe in his hands. The dark man handed him a dildo, its curved body thick and ridged. It might have looked like a real cock except that it was a neon pink. A stream of cold, thick goo hit her pussy, and she jolted, then whimpered at the resulting bobbing of her joined tits. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of screaming, but the physical sensations were beginning to overload her. Her tits hurt like nothing she’d ever felt before, the pain shooting daggers of heat through her nipples and into her breasts.

The vibe pressed against her clit and she jolted, moaning, again. The sensation was overwhelming, that persistent buzz on her clit. It felt…good, fuck it. Pressed against her slick opening, the pink dildo paused a moment, then slid deep. She moaned, caught on the twin prongs of agony and arousal.

“When you come, when you’re slick and sloppy-wet,” the blonde one spoke in conversational tones as he held the vibe over her clit and fucked her with the dildo, “That’s when my brother here, with his big black cock, will fuck your ass.”

The dark man leaned over her, flicking her nipples painfully as he leaned close, holding her gaze.

“And when my cock is buried deep in your asshole, my bro will slide his fat white dick up in your pussy.”

“And then we’ll switch. Cum overload.”

She wished the dark plans, the dirty words didn’t make her pussy twitch. Maybe it was the dildo. Maybe it was the vibe…her body arched, her nipples puckered tightly, and her cunt convulsed.

“Show time,” whispered the dark man. Through the haze of her orgasm she heard the sound of zippers rasping. Her pussy lurched again.

Her friend Nicole kept tapping the window. Courtney blinked, shaking her head and shifting. Her body was achy, and her throat felt like sandpaper. Fumble-fingered, she pulled the keys out of the ignition, and tugged the door handle.

“Well geeze,” said Nicole, taking her arm, then flapping her free hand in front of her face. “My gawd you smell like a fuckin’ brewery!”

“I’m…fine.” She felt weird, truth be told. Her pussy and ass and breasts hurt. Her throat, her wrists…there wasn’t much of her that didn’t have some sort of ache. She walked stiffly, stretching gingerly.

“You don’t look fine, you look like you slept off your drunk in the car! Better call in sick before you get fired. Must’ve been one hell of a party.”

She thought she wanted to stick a pencil through Nicole’s tongue just to shut her up. Eventually she got up to her apartment, assuring Nic that she was fine, going to take a shower, thank you very much for waking me up, now bye. As soon as the door closed she called out sick from work. She didn’t have to act–her voice was raspy and raw. She remembered bits and pieces, then more and more as she slid off her sneakers. Of the biggest penis she’d ever seen and the taste of her own pussy juices being rammed down her throat by another monster of a cock.

She took a shower, the steaming, streaming water making her nipples ache. Her hand rose, gently caressing the tender skin there. The water gleamed off the silver of the safety pins still piercing her, each drop making her shudder in a mix of ache and pleasure.

**********************************

Hair wrapped in a towel, she padded across the living room and lifted the flyer next to her phone. She put it down, bit her lip, walked away towards the kitchen to turn on the tea-pot. With a sigh she walked back to the living room and picked up her phone.

The ringing was loud in her ears.

Information: Case number please

“c-o-u-r-t-n-e-y” she spelled out her name, “6-4-4-3-2”

Information: How may I help you, C64432?

“I–I’d like to schedule an Urban Adventure. For next weekend.” Her words came out in a rush.

Information: your history says you just returned from your most recent UA….are you certain you wish to schedule another so soon?

“I…yes.”

Information: very well, C64432, give me a moment to pull up your next Urban Adventure and tell you your requirements…”

She was smiling as she jotted notes on the yellow pad she kept in the drawer…

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About vanillamom

For over 8 years--(EIGHT?!) nilla and M have been a D/s couple. I'm the "small s" side of that designation, as he often reminds me. I'm silly and prone to giggling at inopportune times. He's a wicked Sadist, who feeds me my drug of choice--pain. My brain is always spinning dirty and dark little fantasies, which I sometimes share with the world. Welcome to the nilla-verse. It's wet and slippery here...with a dragon or two lurking.